Alicia straightens her black veiled cap as it hovers above the rims of her silvery eyebrows. It slides forward with every precarious step down the sparkling walkway. The pins are not keeping it in place.
“Be careful Alicia, there’s ice everywhere. The
town cleaned up the snow, but this cold weather isn’t helping.”
“Albert,” Alicia says as the brisk wind
attempts to pick the cap up off her white curls. “Let me hold your arm.”
“Of course.”
She clamps down on Albert’s wool jacket and takes a few careful steps. “How was your drive? It wasn’t too foggy, was it?” She squeezes tighter.
She clamps down on Albert’s wool jacket and takes a few careful steps. “How was your drive? It wasn’t too foggy, was it?” She squeezes tighter.
“It wasn't too bad.”
“How are the kids?”
“They’re fine. The twins are with Vivian and
her parents.”
They baby-step their way downhill, following
the pathway to Teresa’s section. When they cross a flat surface, Alicia lets go
of Albert’s arm and glides her hand across a snow-covered bush. Diamonds fall
off of crystallized branches and jingle as they spill across the pavement. A
familiar, painful ache engulfs her as she remembers a five-year-old Teresa
playing dress-up with her studded hoop earrings.
Albert and Teresa’s had planned to have
children immediately after they got married, but an icy road on Christmas day
ten years ago made it impossible. The winter storm immobilized hundreds of
towns with mountains of snow, caused hospitals to overflow with frozen corpses,
and extinguished the only bright star left in Alicia’s midnight sky.
Chilly tears form in Alicia’s eyes as she
recalls the last conversation she had with her daughter on that fateful morning.
* * *
“Your father would've been so upset to know
you didn't want to spend Christmas day at home. It’s been our tradition since
you were born, to spend Christmas together as a family.”
Alicia picked up a wood-framed photograph of
her husband and shook her head. Disappointment crossed her face. “Your poor
father, God rest his soul.” She heard an exhausted sigh and quick footsteps over
the line.
“Mom, please,” Teresa whispered. “The weather
outside is terrible. There’s going to be more snow in the evening.”
“Why are you whispering? Are you in the
bathroom?”
“I don’t want to wake Albert up.”
Alicia rolled her eyes and peeked out her
kitchen window. She waved at a neighbor shoveling snow and mouthed the words “Merry
Christmas”.
“You know, there’s nothing embarrassing about
talking to your own mother on Christmas morning.”
“And Christmas Eve, and Christmas Eve
morning.”
“I knew it!”
“Mom, I’m not embarrassed.”
“He doesn't understand what it means to have
a mother, to have someone who devoted their whole life to”
“Mom,” Teresa interrupted. “Stop it.”
“Right. I’m the one being unreasonable.” The whistling
black kettle calls Alicia over. She lifts it off the gas burner and onto a
wooden pad on the counter.
“It’s going to be at least a three-hour drive
with all the traffic.”
“I understand.” Alicia took an exaggerated deep
breath as she placed the chamomile tea bag into her mug. “It’s too much of a sacrifice.
Don’t worry about me. I’ll be home alone with your father’s spirit to keep me
company.”
A splashing sound disturbed the silence as
Alicia poured the steaming water in. She lifted and dipped the tea bag
repeatedly, giving Teresa a chance to change her stubborn mind before she’d present
her next argument.
She didn't wait much.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with the extra
food. You know I bought a large ham because I know how much Albert loves my cooking.
I even got some new glass containers for you to take home. Maybe I shouldn't have been so considerate.”
“I’ll see if the trains are running.”
“The trains have all been cancelled until tomorrow,
something to do with the freezing rails. Those union workers will say anything
to get the day off.”
“Mom, they’re not cancelling the trains to
get the day off. They’re cancelling the trains because it’s unsafe.”
“This little bit of snow is unsafe? In Fargo,
a day like this, in the middle of winter, was a blessing.” She poured two
teaspoons of orange-flavored honey into her tea and stirred counterclockwise.
“Yes, Mom, and you had to walk fifteen miles
in twenty-degree weather and in two feet of snow to get to school.”
“That’s right. The teachers and the students
never failed to show up. People had an obligation. They made commitments. Today,
you promise one thing and do another.”
The bittersweet tea felt warm against
Alicia’s tongue as she took a quick sip. She acknowledged the perfection of her
drink with a long, flavorful lick. She’ll
come. I’m her mother. She has to come see me on Christmas day. It’s our
tradition.
“Mom…please…we’ll go tomorrow morning. I
promise.”
The ceramic cup clinked against the black
marble counter when Alicia set it down. “Fine.
Don’t come. But at least be honest with me. You don’t want to come because you
want to spend the day with Albert, because your father isn't around anymore,
because you hate our traditions, because I’m only your mother, because”
“Fine!” Teresa shouted. “We’re coming over!”
Alicia clapped her hands with glee as if she
won a prize. “Wonderful Darling. What time should I expect you two?”
Alicia squints against the frosty wind. Why did I have to be so pushy? Traditions, what good are they now?
* * *
Alicia squints against the frosty wind. Why did I have to be so pushy? Traditions, what good are they now?
“Alicia,” Albert says, interrupting her trance
and momentarily saving her from despair. “This road isn't as steep, but it does
turn quite a bit. Hold onto me, just in case.”
With each step down the curvy path, Albert is
reminded of the road leading to Alicia’s house that took over his command at
the steering wheel ten years ago. He’d handled
the zigzag road many times before, but a deer caused him to swerve to the edge
of the hillside. After tumbling and sliding through a hundred feet of forestation,
his black sedan landed on its hood. Albert woke up in a hospital two days later
with minor injuries and a concussion. The doctors told him Teresa died from
traumatic brain injuries before arriving to the hospital.
Albert didn’t attend the funeral. He never
said goodbye. He wanted to remember Teresa as he last saw her: happy, healthy,
and full of life.
* * *
“Never mind what I said last night. If we
leave right now we can get there before nightfall. Come on, it’s Christmas.”
Teresa said while sitting on her knees in their bed, wearing her favorite reindeer-print
fleece pajamas, begging with her powerful puppy-dog face.
The mumbling in the bathroom was exactly what
Albert had suspected. “You spoke to your mother just now, didn't you?”
Teresa pressed her lips together into a
straight line and shifted her eyes towards the bathroom door.
“Fine.” Albert flipped over the red and black
flannel comforter and grunted when he stood up. “I’m going to be in a cranky
mood if we get stuck in traffic.” He whipped the curtain shut once he saw the wintry
landscape outside the window. “I’m already mad.”
She jumped out of bed and dragged Albert back
in, kissing him playfully behind his right ear and tickling his midsection.
“You’re so wonderful, do you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah…tell me later when we get to your
mother’s house. And, I’m telling you right now, if she’s going to bring up the
issue of paying for our wedding, then we’re going to have a very long visit.”
“Come on, Albert, give her a break. She’s got
all this money and nothing to do with it. She could help us out.”
“She’s not paying for the wedding. I don’t
want her to have a say in anything. She’ll drive you nuts, and indirectly drive
me nuts.”
“She’s not as bad as you think.” Teresa rolled
her eyes and looked sideways.
“Oh please. I've met your mother. She’s uses
guilt to manipulate you.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have a mom.
Your mother died when you were five and you don’t have any mother-type women in
your family. You don’t know what real
guilt is.” Teresa huffed.
“No, but I know a jerk when I see one. I
worked in sales for a very long time. She’s a shark, and you’re her prey.”
Her furrowed eyebrows matched her pouty lips.
“You make her out to be such a bad person. She’s an ordinary mom who wants to
give her daughter a spectacular wedding.”
Albert stood up and slipped on a pair of
baggy blue sweatpants over his green polka-dot boxers. A red thermal jersey draped
over his black tee shirt. “She wants to control your life. She would control
our wedding if you let her.”
“It wouldn't hurt to let her pay for
something.”
As soon as Albert pulled out a duffle bag
from their closet, the solution hit him like a block of ice. “Why don’t we let
her pay for the honeymoon?”
As the idea planted roots in her mind,
Teresa’s eyes widened. “The honeymoon…It’s perfect.”
“I can’t believe I didn't think of it
earlier. You and your mother can work it out. I don’t care where we go, as long
as she doesn't drive you insane. And it’s going to be your job to make it absolutely
clear that she’s not coming with us.”
Teresa’s eyes welled up with happiness.
“She’s going to love it!”
* * *
“Oh Albert,” Alicia says as they turn the
bend. She grabs onto Albert’s arm tighter than before, raising her other hand
up to her nose to stifle a whimper.
“I've got you Alicia. I've got you.”
She holds her breath for a few seconds and
exhales profoundly as she steps onto the slush at Teresa’s section.
“It never gets easier Albert. You can start
again, have a family with someone else, but for me it will never get easier.”
Albert bites back the sarcastic chuckle. I know what real guilt is now, Teresa.
He imagines Teresa smiling, somewhere,
wearing her favorite reindeer pajamas, watching the snowflakes flutter and
spiral outside a window. She gives him a soft, forgiving smile. Sorry I haven’t spoken to you in a while.
You know how it is.
* * *
“What do you mean you've been talking to
her?” Dr. Fitzpatrick asked two years after the accident. He creased his forehead
at Albert and scribbled the disconcerting news in his notes.
“I've been talking to her to keep her updated
on my life, my therapy, about her mother.”
Dr. Fitzpatrick paused for a few blinks. “Has
she replied?”
Albert laughed. “It’s not like that.” He rubbed
his hands together and leaned forward. “You said I should write letters to an
anonymous recipient, to get my feelings on paper, talk about my day, my
emotions and whatnot. Well, I thought I would be therapeutic to talk to Teresa
and tell her about my day, the way I used to.”
“But Albert, this won’t help you to move forward.”
Albert folded and unfolded his hands. “I know
she’s gone. I don’t pretend she’s in our apartment.”
The doctor nodded, waited, and studied
Albert’s shifty body language.
“I guess I talk to her spirit. She was my
best friend. I used to tell her everything, even the little things.”
“Have you found it to be useful? Have you
seen any changes?”
“I finally started sleeping through the
night.” Albert said excitedly. “I haven’t slept this way since before.”
“Good,” he said with a pleased expression.
“And what about her mother? Is she still coming over with food, to clean the
house? How’s your relationship with her since you've been home.”
“Oh,” Albert adjusted himself in his seat.
“She’s been great. We've been talking a lot lately, about the news, about her friends, my job… shooting the breeze.”
Dr. Fitzpatrick moved his pencil across his
notepad. “Does she talk about Teresa?”
“No too often. Probably as much as I do.”
The doctor’s face scrunches in confusion.
“For instance, the other day I cleaned out my
closet when she was there and I found a drawing Teresa created for my fortieth birthday.
It was a cartoon drawing of an old wrinkly squirrel with big buck teeth and fat
cheeks smoking a huge wooden pipe. Right underneath she wrote, ‘You are
officially the cutest old squirrel alive’.”
The doctor sat quietly as Albert strolled
through the memory.
“Well, I showed it to Alicia and told her
about how Teresa loved drawing me as a cartoon squirrel because of my chubby
cheeks. I showed her other drawings of us as little squirrels living in trees
collecting acorns for the winter. Teresa used to spend hours, entire weekends,
on these little ‘masterpieces’.”
Dr. Fitzpatrick writes steadily in his notes.
“I think Alicia really appreciated learning
something new about Teresa.”
The baby blue sky outside the doctor’s office
window drew his attention. It was a perfect painting of heaven with puffy
clouds scattered about. He imagined Teresa perched on one of those cotton balls
with her hands on her hips and her know-it-all smirk. “Teresa was right; she wasn't as bad as I’d thought.”
* * *
“What are you smiling about?” Alicia asks, as
they pass the third of eight tombstones leading to Teresa’s final resting place.
“Something I remembered about Teresa.”
“Oh,” Alicia says in a delighted tone. “You
still think about her?”
“Every now and then.”
“Does Vivian know?” Alicia’s eyebrows shoot
up mischievously.
“Of course not. But if she knew, I think she’d
understand.”
“Would she?”
“She knew Teresa was,” Albert swallows hard
as the words materialize in his mind, “the love of my life.”
Alicia stops and stares at Albert solemnly.
“I’m glad you met Vivian and started a family. I’m happy for you. I’m glad you
could find happiness elsewhere. Not all of us are so lucky.”
There’s that
wonderful motherly guilt again.
“But you do love Vivian, right?” Alicia asks
as they walk past the fourth tombstone.
Although this question is tricky, somewhat a
double edged sword, he answers honestly. He doesn't tiptoe around her landmines
the way Teresa used to. “I love her enough.”
Alicia gives Albert a knowing glance. “Come
on Albert. Aren't we beyond pretenses? You can tell me you love her.”
“I’m not lying, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Alicia stops to face Albert. “Then why did
you marry her?”
“Because of Freddy and Jessie,” Albert lifts
his eyes to the twilight stars in search of the right words. “They’re
everything to me now. She made them possible. I love her enough to make her
happy, to make my family happy.”
Alicia grimaces and puts her right hand up to
smother another cry.
“I’m sorry, Alicia. I didn't mean to upset
you.”
“It’s just that…sometimes I wonder what your
children would have been like. It would have been nice to have grandchildren.”
“You know you can always consider my children
your grandchildren. They love when you visit.”
“I know, Albert.” She gazes fondly at him. “I
love you for that.” She breathes in unsteadily and exhales into the crisp air.
“It would have been nice to have gotten to know Teresa’s children. That’s all.”
I know what you mean,
Alicia.
* * *
“You haven’t told her yet?” Albert wrung the
steering wheel as they drove off the highway and into her mother’s home town. He couldn't understand how a mother and daughter could see each other so often and
be so distant. “You’re almost three
months pregnant. You’ll be showing in a few weeks. She’s going to notice.”
“You know how she is. She’ll be mortified. She’ll
hate the whole having-a-kid-out-of-wedlock thing. I can hear her already. ‘What
will my friends say?’”
“Who the fuck cares what her friends will
say?”
“She cares.”
Albert chortled as he turned left onto an
empty commercial boulevard. Red and green Christmas decorations hung above from
one side of the street to the other, welcoming them into town and wishing them
a “Very Merry Christmas”. Iron cast street lamps illuminated the piles of snow
sitting along the edges of the sidewalk and atop the parked cars. A cluster
of people, bundled up to their ears, were running towards a diner on the corner
where a Santa statue held up a sign that read “Open Christmas Day”.
“Your mother will be the first of her friends
to have a grandchild. She’ll be the first to brag about it, the first to go
shopping for expensive kids’ clothes. You have to know how to sell it to her.
She’s a tough woman but everyone can be coaxed into a sale.”
“I suck at sales.”
“Yeah I know. Do you remember the jacket you
tried to sell me the day we met?” Albert said playfully. “What was it…a
thousand-dollar Pelle jacket?”
“My commission would have been a hundred
dollars for that one sale.”
“And that guy swooped in under you.”
“Mi-shell was his name, a genuine French
asshole.”
“He practically tugged on my shirt to get me
away from you.” Albert laughed as he made a right turn off the commercial
street. “Poor guy, he didn't know I wasn't uninterested in the jacket. He really believed he had a sale with me.”
“He was so angry when you left the store. He
was really angry when you came back to talk to me the following day.”
Albert beamed gloriously at Teresa. She leaned
her head back against the headrest with her lips twisted upwards at the
corners. The lengthy drive made her eyelids heavy, and being so close to her childhood
home made her muscle relax. The warmth of her mother’s fireplace beckoned.
“Tell her,” Albert said tenderly as he turned
left onto the winding street leading to her mother’s house. “I’ll be right
there with you. I’ll spin it. Trust me. She’ll be happy.”
She interlocked her fingers on his right hand
and planted a wet, sweet, delicate kiss on his right cheek. “Okay. We’ll tell her today.”
* * *
“Hello Darling,” Alicia says when they finally
arrive. “Merry Christmas.”
Albert helps her place a dried-up red rose
atop the gravestone. Every year, before
the frost hits, Alicia clips new rosebuds from the rosebush Teresa planted when
she was ten and dries them up. She picks the best one from the bunch and takes
it to Teresa’s on Christmas Day. “A
pretty rose for a pretty girl,” she says as she pulls out her rosary beads.
Albert crouches down and places his own two
flowers on the ground: a large calla lily and a small one. He’s thankful Alicia
never inquired about the smaller lily. He was never quite sure if she knew, if
the doctors had told her after the accident, but he never brought up the topic.
Then, out of nowhere, a bushy gray squirrel
runs to the center of Teresa’s grave, digs up an acorn from under the light blanket
of snow, stands on its hind legs and stares straight at Albert. Albert narrows
his eyes for a two misty breaths before the squirrel skitters away to a nearby
tree.
He chuckles upwards at Alicia. She giggles,
and a few seconds later she releases a loud cackle. “She must think you’re the
cutest squirrel around,” she says while chuckling. Tears stream down her cheeks
so fast she can’t find her handkerchief quick enough to wipe them.
“The cutest old squirrel. You forgot the old
part. Imaging if I had my pipe!” Albert says as he helps Alicia search for
another handkerchief in her purse. She can’t control her fit of laughter.
After a few minutes Alicia regains composure.
“Let’s go so you can spend the rest of Christmas day with your family.”
As they walk back to their cars, Alicia discusses
the idea of Albert no longer driving out on Christmas day to accompany her to
Teresa’s grave. “I can get someone to escort me. They have services for these
types of things, specifically for seniors. I’m sure your family wants to spend
time with you on Christmas day.”
When the driver’s side door slams shut,
Albert leans against the window. “You are my family Alicia.”
She nods once more, wishes Albert a safe
journey home before driving off into the late Christmas afternoon.
Albert climbs into his truck, turns on the
engine, and stares past his steering wheel. Did
you see that squirrel? Of course you did. You probably sent it.
A sigh escapes him as he catches his sweet reverie
slowly transform into the aching sorrow which used to consume him so much that
he spent six months at Bellevue Hospital diagnosed with depression. It doesn't happen as often as it used to, but every now and then, especially during
Christmas, Albert struggles with his memories. He wants them to fade away, to
allow him to live a normal life with his new family, but he also wants them to
stay. The worst thing he could ever do to Teresa is forget about her.
He recalls Teresa’s electric blue eyes, her contagious
pixie-like laughter, the way she used to whisper “I love you” in the middle of
making love, and other beautiful love-defining moments that will never again
be, like the day they heard their baby’s heartbeat at the doctor’s office. It
was the happiest day of Albert’s life.
Like menacing icicles dangling from above,
his sharp memories take aim, piercing through years of therapy and meditation,
causing a pain in his chest to burn so deep that he grabs hold of his shirt
with both hands and wrenches the fabric until his knuckles turn white. His face
contorts into the definition of agony as his defenses melt away.
No. Not again.
Quickly, he shuts his teary eyes and blows out
air through his nose.
Freddy and Jessie…Jessie
and Freddy… Freddy and Jessie
The tenseness in his face dissipates and a sad
smile creeps in. He can already hear the giggles when his children push at his
knees and tackle him to the ground upon walking through the front door. They’ll
race down the stairs or from across the living room while screaming “Daddy’s
Home!” It’s become a daily ritual ever since second birthday last summer.
They would have loved
to have seen that squirrel.
He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand
and pulls out his phone to send Vivian a few texts.
ALBERT: Leaving now.
I’ll be home in a few hours.
ALBERT: Don’t eat
dinner without me.
ALBERT: Remind me to
tell you about the squirrel.
He stuffs the phone into his wool coat’s side
pocket and gazes past the metal gates of the cemetery at the hazy red sun
lingering above the horizon.
It’s getting late.
The low, monotonous hum of a news reporter
fills the car when Albert turns on the radio to listen to the traffic report. He
checks the time on his phone: four thirty. The GPS displays a one-hour car ride
to his destination, clear roads all the way.
I have to go now
Teresa. He glances once more towards
the setting sun. I will always love you.
Albert puts the car into drive, steps on the
accelerator, and heads on home.
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